The Final Chapter
by Odi et amo
Summary: Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, I regret to inform you of the unfortunate death of your nephew Harry Potter. The final chapter of the final book, as I see it happening.


A/N: This was written for a contest at Final Prophecy, and the contest was to write the final chapter of the final book, 1500 words or more, as you think it may happen. So this is what I wrote about two seconds after realizing that I could do that easily. I hope I win, but you get house points for participating too, so if I don't win, at least I'll have earned my house points.

The final word of the Harry Potter series is rumored to be "scar" so that became my final word as well. I hope you enjoy this, and _please, please,** please**_ read and review.

**oooooooooo**

**One Last Visit**

**oooooooooo**

The after math of the war was remembered, surprisingly enough, not by just the wizarding world, but some in the muggle world as well.

Petunia Dursley stood in shock by the door, her eyes scanning over the words on the parchment before her. Dudley was still at school, and Vernon was due to arrive any moment. In some strange way she felt sadness. Harry was her blood relative after all, or rather, he had been.

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Dursley,_

The opening lines read just like any business letter, the only thing even hinting that it wasn't so being the envelope with the sending address being "Order of the Phoenix" on it.

_I regret to inform you of the unfortunate death of your nephew Harry Potter. He was well-loved by many in the magical world, and his death was not in vain._

_As you are undoubtedly not aware (I am well aware of the situation at home), a dark wizard named Voldemort launched a campaign against the wizarding world and all muggles (non-magic folk) about fifty years ago. In the past twenty years his power and followers increased, until the night of your sister Lily and her husband James's deaths. His power was lost then, thanks to his spell rebounding off of you nephew and hitting him instead. Ever since Harry's arrival in your home he spent his time attempting to regain his power and rise once again to his past status. In the fourth year of Harry's time at Hogwarts he succeeded in his goal, and quite literally, rose from the nearly dead. _

_In this, what would and _should _have been his final year at Hogwarts, full war broke out. The casualties have been many, including two of your nephews closest friends, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger. The latter of which was much like your sister Lily. She was born in a non-magical family, was a brilliant intellectual, and in love with the aforementioned young man, who, like James, was a pureblooded wizard. _

_Harry is to be remembered as a brave, young man, who once a long time ago battled a dragon and won. Who was the youngest person in a hundred years to become part of a sport not allowed to those in their first year at school. He perfected many things years before they were expected, and while not the best of students, he was one of the brightest. _

_In his final moments he defeated one of the worst menaces to ever walk our separate, but very close worlds. I regret to say that his death was one brought about by a cowards actions. _

_Your nephew Harry, was shot in the back by a killing spell._

Here there were several spots on the paper, as though the person writing had been crying as he wrote. The words were shaky, but legible, and the paper had smudge of ink on it in the shape of a thumb.

_The perpetrator of this crime was a known Death Eater (a name Voldemort's followers were known to go by) by the name of Lucius Malfoy. A trial will be held in a months time to discuss his crime and sentence him in the most appropriate manner. I do not presume to know the future Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, but in my heart I know they will either sentence him to a living death, or a permanent death. I hope it is the latter._

_I wrote this letter, not just as a way to inform you of Harry's death, but as an eye opener as well._

_Had Harry not killed Voldemort that day, and had Voldemort succeeded in his plans, the world would be lost to us. As a non-magical person you would have either been made into slaves, or executed on the spot. Anyone who was not a pureblood wizard or a muggle (again, non-magical person) sympathizer would have suffered the same fate. _

_Had Harry not killed Voldemort, he would not have saved you._

_Undoubtedly you are wondering why Harry was the one who was supposed to kill him. The answer is that it was written in a prophecy told long before he was born. This prophecy was applicable to two children, but in the end it was Voldemort who chose the child who was to be his death. The spell that killed Harry's parents, but not Harry himself, was meant to rebound, to allow time for the world's savior to grow, and learn, and live. It was meant to give Harry time to prepare himself for destiny._

_I do not know if my words will reach you in the manner I hope, but I do hope that by reading this letter you understand you nephews sacrifice, and are grateful for it. _

_A wise man once said _"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."

_It is my wish that you do not share this information with anyone except yourselves. Burn the letter if you have to, but do not share this information. And please, for the sake of a young boy whose life was decided before he got the chance to protest, _remember _Harry Potter._

_With sincere regards and deepest regret,_

_Remus Lupin, a family friend_

A photograph was enclosed, and more than the letter had, it affected Petunia. In it Harry was grinning at the camera, looking happier than he ever had. Next to him were what she could only assume were his school friends, Ronald and… She glanced back at the letter. Hermione.

The girl had a wild mane of bushy hair, and large, innocent eyes. Her grin was infectious. The boy had a mop of bright red hair, and a smattering of freckles all across his face. All three waved excitedly at the camera, with the girl leaning over to give a kiss on the cheek of the red haired boy every once in a while. He, in response, would blush as red as his hair, with even the ears turning pink.

Petunia stared so long and so hard at the picture that she didn't hear the car in the driveway, and certainly didn't hear Vernon enter the house and announce himself as being home.

One large, meaty hand landed on her shoulder gently and turned her towards her husband. He appeared worried.

"Petunia love, what's the matter? Why are you crying?"

Was she crying? She hadn't been aware.

"I…we just received a letter from _them."_ The normal disgust in her voice was gone, even though she still felt uncomfortable even mentioning anything related to magic. Vernon grunted and took the letter from her hands, scanning over it quickly, them reading it slowly a second time. His response was slow and worded carefully.

"So he won't be returning here again, will he?"

"Vernon, he's dead. While I never much liked him, he…he was my nephew and _I _was responsible for him. Not only that-" Her voice cracked a little. "-he was only eighteen. _Eighteen, Vernon. _Dudley is eighteen. I…"

Her shoulders shook in repressed emotion, and her voice began hitching in sobs.

"If Dudley was dead, what would you do. We were never nice to Harry, I _know_ we weren't, but…but…he's _dead. He was my responsibility and now he's dead!"_

She suddenly latched onto him and began sobbing in huge gulps against him. Vernon stood there in shock. He hadn't seen Petunia this upset since…well…since they had got the boy. Then she had cried alternately about how she and her sister had never been close and how she wished Lily had been _normal, _and how now they had another mouth to feed and it would probably turn into one of _them._

He patted her shoulder awkwardly, as he had done the last time, looking down at the picture Petunia held against his massive chest.

"Petunia, I…it's not your fault that the boy is dead." He said in an attempt to comfort her.

"Yes it is! I should never had allowed him to go to that school!" Came the choked response. He grunted.

"It was good you allowed him there. He looks happy there. Had he not gone there he would have probably ended up in some detention center or jail. Not only that, had he not gone there; if that letter is correct, then…then he wouldn't have died a hero. That's more than anyone could want."

She looked up at him. Still hiccoughing every once in a while.

"Do y-y-you really th-think so Vernon?"

He heaved a massive sigh.

"I do Petunia."

She nodded, her lips pursing, but not in a disapproving manner.

"Th-Then I think so too."

They stood there a while longer, Vernon in unreadable silence, Petunia being held by him and crying silent tears instead of the previously loud ones. The letter fell to the floor, forgotten about for the time being, until Dudley arrived home and decided to read it. The picture remained in Petunia's hand.

Years later Vernon and Petunia's guests would always remark upon the picture on the mantelpiece. The one that moved and had three happy strangers in it. Petunia would just nod and say they had found it on a sidewalk, and decided to keep it because it moved, while Vernon would just nod his head in agreement. The people in the photo would just grin even wider, as though knowing some great joke.

And every once in a great, great while the girl would lean over; much to her boyfriends displeasure, and give a kiss on the cheek to a boy with a lightning bolt shaped scar.


End file.
